M'tak Ka'fek (The T'aafhal Inheritance) (40 page)

“Too bad we can't take this place as a prize, Captain,” JT said as the last of the Marines took the leap.

“Who knows, JT,” Jack mused, looking for the last time at the crater he had made. “We may come back someday.”

“Did you know the mission was going to end this way?” 

“No, not really, but it pays to have an ace in the hole.”

“Like a two megaton antimatter bomb?”

“Yes, you never know when you're going to need one.”

The former Green Beret smiled. “See you back on the ship, Sir.” JT turned and jumped into space.

“Yes, indeed, Lieutenant,” Jack said, as much to himself as to the departed JT. The last man off the station, Jack turned and followed his crew into space. Looking at the hole as he fell, it appeared to be a bit smaller than when the explosion created it. The station's repair mechanisms must still be functioning—the hole was already starting to grow shut. 

As he fell away from the station rim he looked back, feeling at peace for the first time since before this mad voyage began.
I guess the station will survive our visit.
All that remains now is to install the antimatter and head for home. Perhaps we will come back someday; Ludmilla would love having all those alien species to study.
 

Bridge, M'tak Ka'fek

After the brief solitude of his spacewalk from the station, Jack arrived back on the bridge with a thousand and one details to see to. From the forward antimatter bunker, JT called him.

“Captain, we have all the egg holders filled with full containers, all 36 of them. What should we do with the remaining eggs? We salvaged 121 in all.”

“There is a reason that the space you are in is called the forward fuel bunker, Lieutenant,” Jack replied. “There are also midships and aft fuel bunkers, just waiting to be filled. Ask the ship for directions.”

“Aye aye, Sir.”

At the helm, Jack could see that Bobby was anxious. No longer able to suppress his fears he asked after the missing Mizuki.

“Captain, where is Mizuki? Why hasn't she come to her station on the bridge?”

“Both Lt. Bear and Dr. Ogawa were wounded during the mission, Mr. Danner. They are both confined to sickbay until further notice.”

“Wounded!” Bobby jumped up from his seat at the helm. “How badly? I have to see her!”

“Lt. Danner! You will remain at your station!” Jack seldom used his stern, captain's voice, but he did so now. “Dr. Ogawa's injuries are being treated and she will return to duty as soon as she is able. In the mean time I expect you to do your duty.”

“But, I,” Bobby stammered.

“Mizuki has performed her duties admirably, and she would expect you to do the same.”

Bobby slid back into his chair. He knew that Mizuki had a strong sense of personal honor, and that nothing would disappoint her more than knowing that he abandoned his station to look for her.

“If you wish to help her, help your shipmates bring the ship back to home port.”

“Aye aye, Sir,” the subdued Bobby replied. “Sorry Sir, no excuse.”

Jack nodded at the shaken young man, not wishing to say more. He himself felt anguish over the girl's wounds and those of his friend. After all, they were wounded fighting under his command. But those matters would have to wait, they needed to get out of this system. Aput called from the main fire-control station with a welcome distraction.

“Captain, it looks like there are a half dozen ships headed our way from the largest of the two moons.”

“Very good, Aput. Sound general quarters, bring the shields up to full and the secondary battery on line.”

“Aye aye, Sir!”

M'tak, how soon can we do the wormhole thing back to Earth?

I would not recommend attempting an annular black hole jump under present conditions. There is a significant area of gas and dust between this system and Earth, an area of new star creation. It is only a few light-years away and could adversely impact creation of the wormhole.

We can flit across 1,500 light-years in the blink of an eye but we can't fly through dust?

It is not the dust,
per se
, Captain. It is the unsettled gravitational gradients present in the stellar nursery region that complicate the matter. If I might suggest first making an alter-space transit to a star system with a clearer path to the solar system?

Fine, select one and send the transit point's coordinates to the helm—and make it as short a transit as possible.

Yes, Captain.

“Mr. Danner, lay in a direct course for the coordinates sent to you by the computer. We will be making a short transit through alter-space before we can make the wormhole jump to home.”

“Aye aye, Captain. We are underway. Estimated arrival at the alter-space transit point is four hours.”

“Sir, the alien ships are changing course. They are pursuing us.”

“That's fine, Aput. Stand ready to fire on them if they come too close. Lt. Danner, try to keep our pursuers out of range until we can transit.”

“Aye, Sir.”

Four hours later, the M'tak Ka'fek slipped into alter-space, beginning a transit to an unknown star that the AI said would take four and a half days. Aput reported that their pursuers may have followed them into the lesser dimensions, though it was hard to be sure.

Chapter 24

Rebirth and Renewal

Anxiety gathered like a dark cloud around Bobby, and tension filled the bridge whenever he was on watch. Even so, the Captain made him stand double watches, figuring it was better to keep the young lieutenant busy than have him sitting in his quarters thinking of worse case scenarios for Mizuki.

Bobby was not the only one affected by the casualties the expedition suffered prior to extraction. The post mission high quickly turned to depression as the cost struck home. JT, who was close to Bear, was in an ill-tempered mood since returning to the ship. Morale among the crew was at a nadir and the Captain was becoming concerned—but some things could not be rushed.

Finally, two and a half days into the transit, Jack ordered JT and Bobby to accompany him to sick bay. With the exception of Corpsman White and Lt. McKennitt, only the Captain had ever been inside of sickbay before. In fact, the crew did not even know the ship had a medical section before the wounded were admitted.

The trio of officers entered sickbay to find Betty present and wearing a nervous smile. The room was an expansive, sterile place, with large tanks along the walls—it looked more like a chemical plant than a hospital.

“Good afternoon, Captain, ready for the decanting?”

Bobby and JT looked at each other, confused.

“Yes, Corpsman White. I suggest we start with Lt. Bear.”

“As you wish, Sir.” Betty moved to a large tank on the right-hand side of the room. After examining instrument readouts on a panel next to the tank she tapped the screen in several places and said, “commencing.”

“You may wish to stand back from the regeneration tank as the patient emerges,” said the voice of the ship's AI.

There was a sound like a toilet flushing followed by gurgling, as if liquid was draining away. A seam appeared, spiting the tank in two vertically. Its sides pulled back, recessing into the wall. There, standing in front of the humans was a very large, very wet, blue tinged polar bear.

The bear coughed, spewing blue liquid, and tumbled from the open tank. On all fours, he continued to cough up liquid until his lungs were clear and his breathing became normal. Looking up he rasped, “what are you primates looking at?”

“Bear?” asked a puzzled JT.

In answer, Bear shook himself like a dog, sending droplets of blue fluid flying in all directions. He stood up, towering over the humans. Looking down at his visitors he paused, and then raised his right foreleg. After a few moments he spoke again.

“Funny, I seem to remember losing that,” he said, flexing the limb in question.

“Bear!” yelled JT running forward to grab him by the midsection. “Damn, it's good to see you whole!”

“Well how about that,” the bemused Bear said wrapping his left forearm around JT, giving him a half bear-hug. Bobby stood, mouth agape, staring at the ten foot ursine in front of him. Bear released JT and turned to the Captain.

“Jack, how?”

“You don't think I would abandon my best friend, wounded on the field of battle, do you?” Jack's voice choked with emotion as bear and man embraced.

The spectacle of Bear's emergence from the healing tank served as distraction while Betty released her other patient. As the men marveled at the miracle of Bear's restored foreleg, Betty quietly pulled the naked Mizuki from her tank, cleared her lungs and got her breathing again. Urgently whispered explanations calmed the patent down as she was wrapped with blankets. Mizuki's modesty intact, Betty called to the men.

“I have someone else here you might want to see.”

Bear released Jack from his bear-hug and all four turned to look at the still dripping Mizuki. Bobby, who's reserve could take no more, ran across the room and took her in his arms.

“Mizuki, Mizuki,” he babbled, face buried in her fluid dampened hair. “They wouldn't let me see you.”

Reluctantly pulling away, he looked into her eyes. She levelly met his gaze, a more confident person than she had been two weeks ago. “You seem taller, somehow,” he observed.

“Five point three centimeters taller, to be exact,” the ship's AI said. “Evidently her full growth potential was not realized during childhood.”

“What?” was all the confused Bobby could manage. Mizuki put her arms around him and kissed him. Leaning in close she whispered into his ear. “Hush Bobby... and later I will show you my new legs.”

Solar System, First Wave

Proconsul
Booshnarrallna's fleet emerged from alter-space, south of the plane of the ecliptic, about an AU from the Sun. His ships maneuvered in good order forming a hemisphere, a hollow bowl shaped formation. The open mouth of the bowel pointed toward their target—Earth.
 

Within ten minutes the Republic's fleet had been detected and its course plotted. The alien interlopers accelerated to 700km/sec on an interception course with Earth and its satellite. The enemy fleet would arrive in two and a half days if left unmolested.

From a holding position above the ecliptic plane, half way between Earth and the transit point from Beta Comae, four frigates under the command of Captain Gretchen Curtis accelerated on a vector that would intercept the invaders before they could come halfway to their target.

“Signal Farside. Tell them we are underway and will intercept the alien fleet in just over a day, assuming they do not change course or speed.”

“Yes, Captain,” replied the signals officer. “Ma'am, we have a message from Captain Kinashi: 'Pursuing invaders and accelerating to intercept course.'”

The remaining four operational frigates had been patrolling between the Beta Hydri and Delta Pavonis transit points. Their commander, Capt. Kinashi, was a career officer with the name of a famous WWII submarine captain. Though he claimed he was no relation to Takakazu Kinashi, who was credited with sinking the USS Wasp, Gretchen hoped he had some of the old officer's skill—and luck.
 

“Acknowledge Kinashi's signal and transmit our intended point of rendezvous with the enemy. We will coordinate our approaches when we get closer but with any luck we will be able to catch them from two sides at once.”

* * * * *

At Fleet HQ on Farside, Col. Tropsha was watching the developing tactical situation in the Operations Center. With Gretchen commanding the frigate squadron and Billy Ray still off on the mission to the Triads, she was left surrounded by officers that were mostly strangers to her. She and Gretchen had discussed tactics on numerous occasions but she held no illusions regarding her own knowledge of space warfare. She was an ex-Air Force officer and cosmonaut, not a Naval officer like Jack. Her time in the
Voenno-Vozdushnye Sily
—the Russian Federation Air Forces—was spent as a flight surgeon. 

Jack, where are you when I need you,
she complained to the aether for the hundredth time. No matter, she may not know ship vs ship tactics, but she did know how to handle logistics. There was an old American military saying that amateurs talk tactics while professionals talk logistics. She may not know how to handle a warship but she could ensure Earth's forces were deployed and fully equipped to fight when the time came.
 

“Commander, call Squadron Commander Melaku and tell her to position a flight of corvettes off the Beta Comae transit point. Move the rest of her force to a complementary position below the ecliptic plane. I wish to be prepared if more enemies show up or if some make it past the frigates.”

“Yes, Colonel,” the Commander replied.

“And start moving the civilians to the deep caverns. We have a few days yet, but I do not want to wait until the last minute.”
Jack had a saying about crisis management—most people wait until a situation becomes a crisis and then try to manage it.
She was not one of those people.
 

“Aye aye, Ma'am. What about the Marines?” A number of remote positions had been prepared across the Moon's rugged surface, their purpose to conceal a counterstrike force, just in case the base was overrun.
 

Ludmilla thought that Farside was more likely to be reduced to a glowing crater than overrun by alien shock troops, but the base had a battalion of Marines and nothing for them to do. They may as well deploy and wait for an invasion. It cost little to plan for that contingency now, and if it did come to pass later it would be too late to take action. “Da, order Colonel Rodriguez to deploy her Marines.”